Return of the Assassin

By George O. Bancroft

Is Owen Stanley the quiet, loving teacher known to the staff and students of Warnell College? Or the angel of death who confronts three armed men who come to the Saturday evening student rally to execute the Lewis family? When Stanley uses the skills of a long-forgotten life to kill the three, he reenters that dim, shadowy world of his former life that he had left forever when he dedicated his life to teaching. But the professor opposed a madman when he saved the Lewises, and it ends up costing him his family and his job and leads him to Ell Hernandez, a woman from his past whom he has never met but who knows more about him than any other person on earth.

Owen and Ell are plunged into a life and death encounter with James Lacey, the elusive madman and priest of Satan, who ordered the Lewis family execution. Aided by Owen's best friend, retired Marine Corps Colonel Sean Andrews, techno-genius Ron Harrison, and the father of all hackers, Josh Jacobs, the pair desperately press on through a quagmire of misdirection and chaos in search of the Lewises before Lacey can sacrifice their sixteen-year-old daughter to Satan during a cult ritual scheduled in three days.

When they finally locate the Lewises in the Temple of Magick, they must pass through its tight security net and venture down five levels into its bowels to confront the followers of James and save a lovely young woman from a terrible death at the hands of a madman.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887636702

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

Epilogue

About the Author

cover.jpg

Return of the Assassin

George O. Bancroft

Copyright © 2023 George O. Bancroft

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88763-669-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88763-670-2 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

1

Reed Lewis leaned back in his burgundy leather chair, placed his loafers on the massive oak desk, and sat staring blankly out the window at Saddleback Mountain. Life had it highs and lows, and today, his life was in the swamp.

Reed had been in the car business since he was eighteen . But it wasn't until three years ago, when he had offered Phil Tally a partnership that the business had taken off. Take off was mild—things started skyrocketing. He had gone from a single lot that made a good living to five lots and thirty-five sales reps that had made him a millionaire.

Phil had convinced Reed to open up the Anaheim lot and then the Costa Mesa lot, and the Irvine and Tustin lots followed. It was really Phil who was at the bottom of all the changes that caused the business to grow.

But it was also Phil who had put the .357 magnum in his mouth and pulled the trigger six months ago. On the floor next to body, they found the cryptic, blood-splattered note that he had written. It simply said:

He made it come back. I can't live like this again.

There's nothing I can do. There's nothing anyone can do.

He's too powerful.

No one had been able to figure out who the he was in the note. Reed had filed away a copy of the note in his bottom desk drawer, and he took it out every once in a while, just on the chance that it might make sense. But each time, it had drawn a complete blank.

Now, for the first time, Reed had a feeling in his educated gut that he might know who he was. But Reed still had no idea what the man had done to Phil to cause him to take his life.

It was Saturday, and things were busy down on the floor, but Reed had to be ready for anything this evening, so he had invited Greg Jordan to come over to his office and help him plan his strategy this afternoon.

An intercom buzzed softly, and Reed reached out his left hand and pressed the button. Yes, Dotty, he said still gazing out the window.

Lieutenant Jordan is here, Reed, Dotty Forester said in her professional, all-business voice. It was a ritual she put on just for this pair. After all, she had known Reed and Greg for almost sixty years. The three of them had gone to grade school together.

Send him in. And, Dotty, I am not in the office to anyone this after­noon. I don't care who it is or how important, I'm out. Refer the business calls to Hank. Take messages for the others. I'll call Hank and tell him. Thanks.

Reed leaned over again and pushed the button for his Sales Manager.

Henry Foster, came the answer.

Just then, Reed's office door opened, and a tall, rangy figure ambled toward him. Reed motioned Greg to a burgundy leather couch against the wall facing the window as he said, Hi, Hank, it's me. Look, I have some important things I have to clear up here this afternoon. Cover for me, okay?

Sure. Anything I can help you with?

No, Hank, it's personal, and I just need time to think some things through, and I've asked Dotty to forward my calls to you. Thanks, my friend. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

How you doing? Greg asked as Reed replaced the receiver.

Could be better, Reed said with a sigh. Tonight I have a meeting up in Lemon Heights, and I needed time to think things through and needed someone to help me bounce ideas around. Shirley's going to introduce me to ‘this wonderful man that has helped us all become so successful,' as she puts it.

Reed scowled. Seems as I remembered Phil saying to me a couple of months ago— Reed stopped, and his eyes glazed over. He snapped back almost immediately and went on. "He said that he was going to a meeting where Liz was going to introduce him to some guy named James Lacey.

Liz told him she was going to introduce him to ‘the wonderful man that had helped us all become so successful.'

He looked over at Greg, and a small smile formed at the edge of his mouth. We had a good laugh that afternoon about Liz's comment.

And now it's my turn to meet this phantom named James Lacey, Reed said as he looked Greg deep in the eyes for a full minute before he said, Deep inside, I know there is a connection between this James Lacey and Phil's suicide.

We went through this whole thing at the time, Greg said in his official homicide detective voice. There was no trace of anyone named James Lacey at that meeting Phil attended.

The retired Anaheim Police lieutenant wished there was some way to reach his lifelong friend and ease his pain. Greg had followed the investigation personally. He had set all the gears in motion so Bruce Foster would become his replacement when he retired, and Bruce did owe him something. So Greg went back as a consultant for that one case.

I looked everywhere, and I can tell you that there is no guy out there named James Lacey. Greg spread out his big hands and said with a shrug, You probably misunderstood Phil. It's the only answer that I could come up with then, and I stick by it.

Then you're going to think I'm paranoid because I've just read Phil's note again, and I think I know who the ‘he' in it is, Reed said softly.

Greg shook his head. Let me guess. James Lacey.

It's the only thing that makes sense, Reed said with a plea in his voice.

Reed leaned back again in his oversized burgundy leather chair and turned and stared through his loafers that were still resting on the massive oak desk out the window toward Saddleback Mountain.

I still can't figure out what really caused the sudden boom in business, he spoke more to himself than Greg. I haven't done anything different for the last fifty years. I sell good cars at fair prices, and I have a good base of repeat customers that keeps building year after year.

It had all started because Reed was born with a clubfoot in 1953, when doctors couldn't do much for the condition. But it didn't stop him from having a fairly normal childhood. He lived with the pain until 1965, when Dr. Peters had performed a complete rebuild of the foot, and Reed was able to move around normally for the first time in his life.

Greg could still hear the tears that his best friend had shed many times during their early years. But Reed had been able to channel his bottled-up frustrations into things he could do. He was a born mechanic, and by the time he was fourteen, he had a job working at John Ferguson's garage as a mechanic's helper. Greg had his beautiful 1930 Chevy coupe because Reed had resurrected it from a wreck that he bought from Big John for $10. Reed had given it to him as a gift.

Now we're even, had said. I've owed you since that first day we met, Reed had said with a broad smile as he handed Greg the key.

But in the summer of 1971, when they graduated from high school, Reed had to watch as Greg and the others joined the service and went off to be soldiers in Vietnam. Reed had become hopelessly depressed because he wasn't allowed to participate. His foot made him 4F, and he ended up staying in Santa Ana while the others went off to see the world.

After moping around and feeling sorry for himself for a few months, he finally realized how he could use his phenomenal mechanical skills to fix the unfixable cars. He started buying cars. In some cases, just hauling them away for owners who didn't know what to do with them. He would rebuild the cars and sell them. Within a couple of years, Reed opened a small car lot and was in business. The rest was history.

2

The '80s and '90s were hard for Greg and Reed's friendship. Greg was a straitlaced type who believed in mom, apple pie, and the American family. And he believed that everyone should have a family. But during those years, Reed played the bachelor about town and had as many girlfriends as any man could possibly want. He was always dressed in the latest fashion. His hair was cut daily and his nails finely manicured. Greg knew that it was all those early years when Reed never had clean hands, and the black grease always lay under his nails that drove him to become the Man from Esquire.

It was finally the Caddie limo that drove a spike into their close friendship. Reed said he bought it to rent it out as a side business. But if he had a date for the evening or the weekend, the limo was always scheduled for him.

Greg was a hardworking patrol officer in those days, and he knew what the word on the street was about Reed and his women. Everybody laughed at him. They admired his money, but they laughed at him behind his back. That hurt Greg deeply, but he kept his mouth clamped every time the subject came up.

Reed always used one of his salesmen who was in a slump as his driver. He paid the guy a good fee and expected good service and tight lips. It was a rule among the sales crew that no one talked about driving for the boss—ever!

His salesmen would even help find him dates. When they found the right woman, she always understood that she would be treated to the finest night on the town in Los Angeles and that the pair would stay the night at a suite that had been reserved for Reed at the Beverly Hills Hotel.

It was in 1981 that he started taking treks to Las Vegas and quickly became known as a high roller. He didn't really lose all that much money. A friend had given him the secret to being seen as a high roller without really gambling that much money. So he enjoyed the special care they gave him at the casinos and the suites at the hotels, and he lived La Dolce Vita.

That all ended the last weekend in November 1995 when Reed overheard the conversation. It was a fluke. He shouldn't have even been in that room, but he had heard the orders for a killing or hit as the voice in the next room called it. No one saw or heard him and he got out of Vegas as fast as he could and landed on Greg's front door at two-thirty in the morning. After hearing the story, Greg, now a detective sergeant had called a friend at the FBI. Reed told the FBI the whole story, and then he testified before a federal grand jury.

After that incident, Reed finally came to grips with the fact that he was in a very long, very narrow rut. Life was out of focus. All the girls and all the nightlife and sex were not filling his life. He needed something else in his life beside cars, wild women, and partying.

Greg was always saying to Reed, You should come to our house on Sunday afternoon for barbecue. You need more in your life than cars and wild women. You need to be around some normal people. He was never preachy about it, but Reed knew it was an honest concern from a good friend.

But Sunday was always one of the big days at the car lot, so Reed's reply was always, We've got this special going Sunday, but one of these days, I'm going to fool you and show up.

And after the incident in Las Vegas, Reed went into depression. He could have easily been killed that day. But after a year of moping, he decided that the next Sunday, he would put Doyle Allen in charge. He could trust his judgment for an hour or so, and he would go to Greg's for dinner.

It was that three-hour backyard barbecue that changed his entire life. Greg had invited his niece to have dinner with them that afternoon.

Reed, I'd like you to meet my niece Shirley, Greg said with a matter-a-fact introduction. She just moved here from Iowa, he added as he turned toward the barbecue pit, a smile forming.

Hi, she said softly, her head and eyes fixed hard on a spot on the ground at his feet.

Hello, Reed replied and put out his hand.

Shirley reached out and took his hand with the touch of soft, warm wind. He barely felt the contact. Her shy, blue eyes came up to meet his only for an instant.

Reed was mesmerized by her soft, innocent way, and the slight accent he caught now and then in her voice. He stayed with her all afternoon, and by five that evening, they had established a firm connection.

Reed called Shirley on Monday, and they met for dinner. And then the next night and a month later, he and Shirley had become an item. This relationship was not like the ones with the other women. He never attempted to get her in bed. He liked just being with her. He was a man in love.

But Shirley was only thirty-two years old, and Reed was concerned about the spread in their ages.

He had a long talk with Greg about it because he trusted his best friend's judgment.

Greg's answer was, Do you love her? That's the main issue, Reed, not whether some busybodies talk but whether you really love her.

After mulling it over for a couple of months, Reed decided to tell Shirley everything about his past lifestyle.

And I promise you that I'm through with it, he said very softly. Then he said very softly, I love you, Shirley, and I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?

She looked up at him with her innocent, emerald green eyes, sweetly smiled, and answered, Yes, I'd love to marry you. So on a rainy Sunday in February 1995, they were married.

After they had been married for about a year, Reed realized that there was a potential problem. Shirley had grown up in the cloister environment of a family totally committed to a small church in a small town, and she had never participated in things outside of the church. She was truly naive when it came to what actually happened out in the real world.

When Shirley had graduated from high school, she went to work for her uncle at his stationery store and had worked there until she moved to Anaheim. When she moved to Anaheim, she worked for Greg's brother who owned Jordan and Sons Plumbing until they were married. After the wedding, she didn't need to work, so she took on the duties of the wife of a prosperous merchant.

When John was born, Shirley became a full-time mother. Then two and half years later when Anne came into their family Shirley had her hands full.

As time progressed Reed realized that Shirley was as naive as young Anne about life. As he remembered their talk about his former lifestyle, he realized that she probably didn't even understand what he was trying to say. But he loved her very much. Her innocence was one of the things that had drawn him to her. It signified his new life in many ways.

Little did he realize the trouble that her innocence would bring in the years to come because she never did understand how the world functioned.

3

Reed snapped out of his reverie and turned toward Greg, who was sitting quietly, waiting for him to come to.

You know when the trouble started? Reed asked.

Greg frowned and replied, What trouble?

The trouble with this Lacey thing, Reed answered with an edge on his voice.

The trouble really started when Phil married Liz, Reed said flatly. I know people very well. It is my business to be able to read a person and sell them a car based on their wants. I was able to see what Phil's starry eyes couldn't see.

Reed paused and looked at Greg for a long moment, then said with venom in his words, "Liz is a status-seeking bitch. She will do anything to further her standings in that group she's taken up with. When Phil died, she tried to come in here and act like she was going to run things. I had to get a court order to keep her out when the insurance company said Phil's key man policy wouldn't pay because of the suicide. She owns 20 percent of the business, and I pay her Phil's share of profits on a quarterly basis, but I won't have her as an active anything in this business.

"She's the reason Phil got into booze and drugs. This thing she is into wasn't Phil's scene at all. He belonged with real people, not this group of weirdoes that Liz had taken up with.

So it was then that Liz turned to Shirley. Liz realized it would be good for her to get to know Shirley better. After all, I am one of the bigger car dealers in Orange County, and I have been involved with a couple of charitable fund raisers, and I do know the right people.

Reed frowned and sighed deeply.

It's time I took some action to change our life. I think Shirley may be slipping into something far worse than I was into in my Vegas days. He smiled over at Greg because he had never mentioned the fact that Greg had set them up that Sunday afternoon.

"It's time to put a stop to it. The meeting tonight with this James Lacey guy will be a good time to end things once and for all. Lacey is all I've heard about for months now. Shirley has even claimed Lacey is responsible for the success that Phil, and I had worked so hard these last three years to achieve.

"I don't know who this James Lacey is, but I do know that Phil committed suicide a couple of weeks after he met the man for the first time. Something's very bizarre about that whole thing. I need some time to talk things through with you, and we need to come up with some kind of plan of action that will free Shirley from the hold this Lacey guy has on her. She's your niece, Greg. You have a stake in this too.

Greg just stared out the large window toward Saddleback as he tried to figure out what had gone wrong and why he hadn't seen it coming. He knew Shirley had changed over the last couple of years. But he had been so absorbed in his new life and getting set in the job as head of security at Warnell College that he had paid little attention to what was happening to his sister Jenny's daughter, his favorite niece.

Reed put his head in his hands and said with tears welling in his eyes, God, I really miss Phil. We were more than just prosperous partners. We had become more like brothers during these last three years. We both loved the car business, and we were a great team. A tear spilled down Reed's cheek. God, I miss him.

Phil Tally had always been a great guy to be with. Phil had worked for Reed for fifteen years. He had always been a great salesman. After he married Liz and became involved with that group of weirdoes, he began to drink heavily—but never on the job. He was always sober in the morning. Hung over—always hung over—but sober. Reed had tried to get him to take the treatment, or go to AA meetings, but Phil said he liked drinking too much to give it up. Reed realized it was his only release from Liz's friends.

It was about three and a half years ago that Phil got into cocaine, and it was downhill from there. The couple was about to lose their house, car, and everything they owned, and Liz didn't want anything to do with a loser. She was filing for divorce.

Then, literally overnight, Phil became a new person. He stopped drinking, he stopped the coke, and he started selling cars like the pro he was. He became a new man, and it was from that point that things started to go better for the business too.

After six months of being the top salesman, Phil became the sales manager. It was then that Reed decided to ask Phil to become his partner. It was just an idea that grew. He couldn't think of why he had asked Phil the question, but one day, he said, Have you ever considered buying into this company?

Phil's country boy face showed a little shock, and he said in his Texas drawl, Funny you should ask. I've been thinking about asking you if you'd consider an offer.

The papers were drawn up by their attorneys, and things started to boom.

You know, Reed said matter-of-factly, "after Phil gave up booze and dope cold turkey, I bet I asked him a hundred times what had happened to make him turn around, but the big man would just look at me and shrug and say, ‘I really don't know. I can't figure it out m'self.'

"That was his standard answer, and he never got mad when I asked. The same puzzled expression crossed his face, and his answer was always, ‘I really don't know. I can't figure it out m'self.' Every time the same expression and the same answer.

"You know, six months ago, things were never better for Phil. He reconciled with Liz, the company really started earning money, he paid off all his debts, and he upgraded his lifestyle by buying that new home in Anaheim Hills, complete with view, pool, spa, and tennis court. He drove the best cars we had on the lot, ate at the best restaurants, and really started making friends with the people who were part of Lacey's group.

"And Liz couldn't have been happier. She was riding high and loving every minute of it. With her new wealth, she became one of the darlings of her circle of friends.

Reed looked over at Greg again. "That's why I never bought the suicide. I was with Phil for that entire day before he broke things off early. It was then that he had mentioned James Lacey and Liz's remarks that ‘this great man' was responsible for their good fortune.

"Said he hated going to those meetings but said Liz was all taken with the guy who runs things. She told him that this Lacey guy was the reason we had been so lucky.

"As he walked out the door, Phil turned to me and said, ‘Maybe she's right, damned if I know why I changed and why things have gotten so good.'

And the man that Phil met that night is the same man Shirley is taking me to see tonight—James Lacey. This guy is the key to Phil's death, and I am going to find out why.

Look—Greg paused in thought for a moment, trying to get a plan together—maybe I should go up with you. Not in the same car but just to the house and see if I can get in and meet this Lacey guy. If two of us meet him and confront him, maybe we can get to the bottom of this thing.

Reed looked out at Saddleback. He had a strange, queasy feeling in his stomach. He wasn't looking forward to his meeting tonight, but he had to do this by himself. No, I'll meet the guy and I'll sever any further ties with him and his group.

He smiled over at his friend as he added, Thanks for your ear this afternoon. I just needed someone here to listen. I hate this whole business.

4

The students and faculty of Warnell College sat, heads bowed, eyes staring at the floor as Professor Owen Stanley stood at the podium, talking quietly about the tragic accident that had made this election necessary. The dim light of the auditorium invoked an intimate atmosphere, giving all members of the audience a cocoon that allowed them to remember the loss of their friends. Steve Alexander and Debby Morris had been killed six weeks before in an auto accident. Steve was the newly elected student body president, and Debby was the vice president. They had been on their way to a meeting of the newly elected student council when their lives were snuffed out by a drunk driver.

As Professor Stanley stood and looked out over the faint shadows on the other side of the pencil spot's brilliance that engulfed his head in white light, highlighting his large, soft brown eyes, he realized what bothered him most about these public forums—he couldn't communicate directly with the students. His style was to make eye contact with his students during his lectures. He tried to establish a close rapport with as many students as possible during his fifty-minute talks. He preferred to think of them as talks or better yet as discussions, rather than boring lectures.

And something else ate at him deep inside, but he couldn't hold it down long enough to identify it. He knew the years of violence were still locked deep in the shadowy recesses of his subconscious.

Not now, he thought. This wasn't the time to exorcise the demons of the past. It would have to wait. But the feeling just sat there, taunting him, pulling him down into the mire of the past.

He closed his eyes and stood with his left hand resting on the podium, leaning slightly forward. He had to get through this emotional rehash of the events of the summer and turn this gathering into something uplifting.

This was